Sunday, April 10, 2011

I believe in Love
and I believe in Art
people are either worth it
or they are not
just as simple as that
I don't believe in religion
I don't believe in money
I don't believe in contests
I don't believe in gimmicks
('less I can pull them off)
I don't believe in sports
I don't believe in lottery
I don't believe in luck
you write your own damn story
life is not a competition
Art is not a fucking game
love is not a fucking joke
I believe in pain
I believe in sex
I believe in choice
I believe in work
I believe in sacrifice
I don't live for the future
I don't worship the past
I believe in the present
I believe in today
I believe in the now
I believe in myself
Self-pity is a waste of effort
drama is waste of time
unless you manipulate it,
make fun of it, twist it
burn it, transform it
and turn it into an Art
..or into Love

Saturday, November 6, 2010

SheIs not like anybodyor anyonebut similar and familiarnot unlike the dimpleon the dark sideof the moon,OUR moon!The one we sat onwhen we got drunkon each other's wordsand vertical smilesof some sortSheis brightlike a hundred sunsbut half as abrasiveand twice as decisiveShecontemplates,calculatesand measureswith steely eyesand anal-retentiveprecisionthe width and depthof her open wound,tosses the dicein its surroundingsand then arrivesstanding on one legat the hasty decisionto ignore the matterand slam-shut the issueonly to slipa short time laterand fall heart-firsttime and time againon the remaining scar tissueuttering noises,loud voices, grunts and hisseslike the fucking rainin Spainwhich dancesmainlyon a rusty zinc roofinstead of the plainlike the tongue twistermistakenly explainsSheclutches a fistfulof emotionslike dead roseswith live thornsthat bleed and linger,dead ringerswith knots and hornsfor knucklesand wooden sticksfor fingersSheLooks into the emptinessof my tired eyesand my crooked smileand manages to finda few wordsworth climbing intoworth hanging on toworth stumbling overSheSays "I am"and "forgive me"too many timesso many, in factto make me suspicious,which I already amShesleeps with the fisheswrites like an angelcuts like a pair of scissorsdrops kick like a ninjacurses like a sailorlooks like a princessfights like a pitbulldisregards ritualsdreams in full colorwith her legs wide opento a faint notion,an infatuation,a capricious desire,an obsessionso strange and appealingin her eyesworth givingmore thanher attentionand a few tearsperhapsa few years,perhaps a few monthsperhaps noneSheIs true-blueand hell-bent,determinedand resoluteContent?Hell no!

She

says She can't be happy

all of the timeI used to think she wouldif she only couldbut these daysI'm not so sure.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

What does Love mean to you?...I asked you first!You don't know, do you?Me neither!This isn't a competitionI get it!You have brains and genitalsand they work!So what else is new?so does everyone elseperhaps not as fast as yoursor as pragmatic or as prettyYou had to show medidn't you?But it's not your faultI wanted just to Lovebut you want me to Fuckyour brains outI wanted to show youa man's lovefor a womanhe doesn't knowbecause I equateLove to Loveand Fuckingto Making Loveis what I understandat my coreIs what I feelFuck meand you'll seewhat I meanI can't explain itin plain wordsI wanted to teach youI wanted to let you knowWhat I thought Love wasat the time ...butI've changed my mindsince thenNow I just wantto Fuck you!You and what you wantmight be correctso in the endyou winBut then again,so am I and what I wantDo you still believeyou're the hunterin this human game?If so, you're wrongagain!and so am IBut you loseonly because I knowalreadyhow the game endsAnd if you're as smartas life has led youto believesurrender to Loveand let the idea golike you sayyou wouldEither you believein Loveor elseyou believein Fucking...which is nota bad thing after allYou just can't have itboth waysNot with meanywaysbecause I amnothingbut justanother manbut not 'that' manThe truth doesn't hurtit just can't be avoided

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

If I lived long enough to see your sunlight coming throughthe pitch black window of my crazy heartI would probably fail to fully enjoy its radianceand appreciate the brilliance of its youth in full splendorto stop and wonder why me?, why now?, why here? ...orwhy didn't this happen to me long ago?Sad to admit it, sadder still to realize my ill willI would keep it instead hidden from myselfand from my twisted and cynical ilkperhaps between the yellow pages of an unread bookflattened and crisp forever, never to be seenbecause you are not real to me and I'm not what you don't thinkyou think you need

Follow by Email

Other Blogs By Alberto Ruiz

I spend most of my time locked in the basement, sketching women while listening to music and wasting my time in cyberspace. I like long walks on the beach, latin american poetry, lime flavored Tostitos™, tongue burritos, Coronas with lime and salt, frozen Margaritas, kalamata olives, comics without text and textbooks without pictures.